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think this particularly Catholic imagination was born in me because my earliest loves—and my greatest loves to this day—were stories, meals, and water. Another way to look at it: the liturgy, communion, baptism.
Now I know that the best thing I can offer to this world is not my force or energy, but a well-tended spirit, a wise and brave soul.
Busyness is an illness of the spirit. —Eugene Peterson
What you need along the way: a sense of God’s deep, unconditional love, and a strong sense of your own purpose. Without those two, you’ll need from people what is only God’s to give, and you’ll give up on your larger purpose in order to fulfill smaller purposes or other people’s purposes.
Picture your relationships like concentric circles: the inner circle is your spouse, your children, your very best friends. Then the next circle out is your extended family and good friends. Then people you know, but not well, colleagues, and so on, to the outer edge. Aim to disappoint the people at the center as rarely as possible. And then learn to be more and more comfortable with disappointing the people who lie at the edges of the circle—people you’re not as close to, people who do not and should not require your unflagging dedication.
I’m starting to trust the voices of peace and simplicity more than pride and gluttony.
I used to believe, in the deepest way, that there was something irreparably wrong with me. And love was a lie. Now I’m beginning to see that love is the truth and the darkness is a lie.
such love, such deep connection, it makes me feel uncomfortable with my own need, with needs that I don’t want to admit to having.
You’re ready to truly know Jesus in a deeper way. Start with being. Start with silence.”
“Be not afraid, my dear one. He says, ‘Be still and know that I am God.’ Be still and know. Be still. Be. It starts with ‘be.’ Just be, dear one.”
What’s changing everything for me is a new understanding that we get to decide how we want to live. We get to shape our days and our weeks, and if we don’t, they’ll get shaped by the wide catch-all of “normal” and “typical,” and who wants that?
Words that I’m choosing in this season: passion, connection, meaning, love, grace, spirit.
But brave these days is a lot quieter, at least for me. Brave is staying put when I’m addicted to rushing, forgiving myself when I want that familiar frisson of shame that I’ve become so used to using as a motivator. Brave is listening instead of talking. Brave is articulating my feelings, especially when the feelings are sad or scared or fragile instead of confident or happy or light.
Perfect has nothing on truly, completely, wide-eyed, open-souled present.
This self—this fragile and strong, creative, flip-flop and ponytail self—she’s been here all along, but I left her behind, almost lost her when I started to believe that constant motion would save me, that outrunning everything would keep me safe.
for the first time in a long time, I’m listening to my own voice and desires; I’m articulating my own vision for my life.
The simplicity feels spacious, and inspiring, like I can draw a clean breath.
These days I want to love deeply and well, and that’s really different from pleasing. Love is often quieter, and it’s never connected to that anxious proving
and tap-dancing that so many of us have learned to keep people happy.
Hustle is the opposite of heart.
And so one of the tiny little things I’m learning to do is to play—essentially, to purposely waste time. Strategically avoid strategy, for five minutes at a time. Intentionally not be intentional about every second. Have no purpose—on purpose.
Let’s live lightly, freely, courageously, surrounded only by what brings joy, simplicity, and beauty.
You find peace not by rearranging the circumstances of your life, but by realizing who you are at the deepest level. —Thomas Merton
I developed the theology that said, “If it’s working, it must be God’s will; and if it’s God’s will, even if you hate it, you have to do it.” I know, I know, you can see the errors in that a mile away, but that’s how our weird little ideas are, so obvious to someone else but impossible to detangle ourselves.
who I’ve always been, underneath the recent shell I’ve been wearing—achievement, efficiency, productivity.
My response to pressure and expectations: no. But the word I want to say to beauty and freedom and soulfulness and life and play and creativity and challenge and
God’s wild and expansive love? Yes, yes, yes. Always yes.
What kills a soul? Exhaustion, secret keeping, image management. And what brings a soul back from the dead? Honesty, connection, grace.
